


ever fallen in love?

by constellationsofsentences



Series: all these pictures of you [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bonding, Break Up, Idiots in Love, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, and not realising it, pretty standard for them tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationsofsentences/pseuds/constellationsofsentences
Summary: Given the rest of their relationship, Jonathan and Nancy’s breakup is weirdly boring.
Relationships: past Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler - Relationship, pre Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington
Series: all these pictures of you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570447
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	ever fallen in love?

**Author's Note:**

> nancy doesn't come off suuuper great in this, but bear in mind that that's because this is from jonathan's pov, not because i hate her, because i really really don't, and also because she's clearly a lesbian and jonathan and nancy clearly don't get along at all and i know it's wish fulfillment for the duffers but it's so unconvincing i honestly laugh anytime they do anything couple-y on screen. which is like never, because they hate each other. 
> 
> the title's from ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn't've) by the buzzcocks bc its definitely a vibe with these two

Given the rest of their relationship, Jonathan and Nancy’s breakup is weirdly boring. It happens over the phone, for one, Jonathan leaning against the kitchen table and humming absently every time she speaks.

“It’s just,” she says, all-business, “I don’t think we’re helping each other _progress_ , you know?” The service is never great, but today her voice crackles and Jonathan knows it’s not because she’s emotional.

Jonathan says, “Oh,” because he does know and he hates that he knows. He hates that he can’t be more torn up about this, more emotional. Out of him and Nancy, he’s always been the more sensitive one.

“And you’ve been really absent lately. Not—I mean, emotionally absent. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happened, but you won’t.”

This is not unfair, and it’s not untrue. The thoughts in Jonathan’s head are tangled together like wire or discarded film. There are snapshots of truths and blank space in the middle, and he doesn’t know which bit goes where or how, like an enormous, impossible jigsaw puzzle. Except Jonathan’s pretty sure if he solved it he wouldn’t get the answers anyway. Like the puzzle will just be the words _Am I gay?_ over and over and over.

After it’s done, he sits down at the table and fiddles with his fingers. Things don’t feel that different from how he felt an hour ago, but he knows that something significant has happened. The coffee he made before he called Nancy is cooling rapidly, but he can’t bring himself to drink it. It’s black, too, which he hates but always drinks anyway. (Steve wouldn’t, a treacherous voice in his head thinks. Steve does what he wants. Steve doesn’t care.)

Jonathan cares. Jonathan cares so much, about what he does, about how he looks to himself and other people. And the Jonathan he wants people to see is the kind of person who drinks black coffee.

But it’s cold, and Jonathan just broke up with his girlfriend, so he leaves it and keeps fiddling with his fingers. He keeps one of Nancy’s hair ties around his wrist. It’s thin and black and sensible, and Jonathan wraps it around his index finger and doesn’t think about it. Nancy is always forgetting a hair tie, and Jonathan likes the feeling of being the sensible one, the dependable one, who could pull it off his wrist and say, “I got you.”

And Nancy would take it from him and plant a kiss on his cheek and tie her hair up so she could focus on her work, and Jonathan would watch her and smile and admire the way the strands of hair she’d left behind tickled her neck, and the little frown she made when she concentrated, and the way she reached out to squeeze his hand now and again and he had to dip his head and pretend he had also been working.

Everything’s different, now. Maybe it’s been different for a while. The day after he punched Steve, after Steve told him his biggest secret and looked at him with bright eyes like he somehow knew everything about him, Jonathan had gone round to Nancy’s. She’d smiled at him and he’d given her a hair tie and they’d sat in silence together. Except, instead of sitting and watching her, Jonathan had found himself noticing things. Like the way they never talked. Ever. Sure, she asked him how his day went, and he said _Good_ if it was good, or _Alright,_ if it was bad, and she would nod and he’d ask the question back. But he didn’t think he’d ever _really_ spoken to her. They mostly just looked at each other meaningfully, but Jonathan wasn’t sure he ever fully caught the meaning.

The phone begins to ring again. Jonathan has the brief thought that it might be Nancy, but then again Nancy’s not one to change her mind. He hesitates for a moment, caught between the desire to wallow and the desire to move on.

It rings again, insistently. Jonathan picks it up.

“Hello?”

“Yo, finally, man. I thought you were just going to ignore me,” says Steve. “You OK?”

Jonathan starts. “Did Nancy tell you?”

“Tell me what? Is something wrong? You’re not dying or anything, are you?”

This is weird. Everything about Steve in the past few months is weird, but this especially. Jonathan says: “We broke up.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t reply. There’s a scuffling over the line. Finally, he says, “Damn, that sucks, man.”

Jonathan grunts. “Yeah. I don’t know, man. Everything is all… twisted up.”

“Break-ups with Nancy usually have that effect, yeah.”

“But it was so _boring._ She just called me up and was like, ‘I think we should break up’, and then we did.”

“That’s Nancy,” says Steve. Through the joke, his tone is tight. “Straight to the point.”

Jonathan does not want to talk about this. He says only, “Yeah.”

“Listen, dude, I was actually wondering if you wanted to swing by next month. It’s Robin’s birthday, and I’m doing a surprise party. If that’s cool. I don’t know.”

Jonathan has met Robin exactly once, for about thirty seconds. He’s fairly certain she hates him. But _Steve_ wants him there, and Jonathan has the sinking feeling he’ll do anything Steve asks him to. And besides, Jonathan is a notorious masochist. He says, “Sure.” Then, thinking, “Will Nancy be there?”

Steve laughs, sheepish. “Uh, well, Robin thinks she’s a priss. So probably not.”

This startles a laugh out of Jonathan. “Okay then. If it’s on a weekend, I can probably make it.” The fact that Steve’s invited him and not Nancy makes him feel like there are hot coals in his chest. He’s not sure if he likes the sensation.

“Awesome!” Steve says, sounding genuinely excited. He dives into the details, and Jonathan nods and hums where appropriate, and asks if he needs to bring a gift, and no, he’s definitely bringing one, what sort of things does Robin like?

She likes movies, apparently, and terrible music Jonathan will probably like, and Slurpees from the movie theatre in Hawkins, although Steve’s not sure how much that will help Jonathan. “Maybe, like, a game we can play? If you’re going to be here the whole weekend, I mean.”

Jonathan says: “Sure.”

They’re silent, for a little bit. Jonathan listens to Steve breathing over the line, steady like a drumbeat.

“Hey, I hope you’re okay,” Steve says, finally.

“What?”

“With Nancy, and coming back, and all that stuff.”

Jonathan shrugs, idly, still tapping his feet.

“Dude?” comes Steve’s voice, and Jonathan remembers that they’re talking on the phone.

“I mean,” he says, “it was a long time coming. I’ve been dealing with some stuff—some stuff she can’t really help me with.”

“Yeah?” Steve murmurs.

“Yeah. And I just… we never talked, you know? Like, with the photo thing… I tried to talk to her about it and she—just, nothing. And I don’t know why. But it bugged me. And I want my relationships to be close, but not just physically, like, _mentally,_ and I don’t think she did. We were never on the same wavelength if that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Steve says again. “Yeah, I get you.” He inhales a little. “That sucks, man. You deserve—you deserve a relationship that feels… a hundred per cent.”  
“Do I?” asks Jonathan.

“Yeah, you do. You really do.”

He knows it’s true. He does. But knowing it himself and hearing somebody else say it are two completely different things. The hot-coal feeling intensifies, spreads through his limbs into his fingers and his toes, up into his cheeks until he’s blushing. It doesn’t hurt. He feels as though he’s fallen into a warm bath, and maybe he didn’t want to fall in the first place, but now that he’s here he’s more comfortable than he’s been in a long time.

Quietly, he says, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

With a jolt, Jonathan realises he hasn’t asked Steve about himself. “What about you, man, are you okay?”

“Oh, awesome. Completely fine, nothing interesting at all, really.” He seems to realise how unconvincing that sounds because he barrels on. “Yeah, Robin came round the other day with an ABBA record—“

“ABBA? You said she had taste.”

“Oh, just because you hate fun, loser. Anyway, she came round, and we played the record so loud the neighbours came round to complain. And it was little old Mrs Graham—you know her, she used to teach English before she retired? God, I hated that class—anyway, she came round, and she was all, ‘Mr Harrington, if you do not shut that off right now I _will_ call the school and I _will_ get you in detention for the next two months!’, and she was all scary, and I was about to turn it off and be all ‘sorry ma’am’, but then I remembered I’ve graduated, and she’s got nothing on me!”

His impression of the teacher is unconvincing, but Jonathan laughs anyway.

“Anyway, we still turned it down, but like, she looked stupid, so who won?”

This sets Jonathan off properly. “You are a caricature of a person, Steve,” he says.

“What?”

“You pretend to be all… _sassy_ and mean, but you’re the epitome of the boy next door.”

Steve laughs. “Don’t tell anyone. My street cred would...” He makes a _woosh_ ing noise.

“Not to be rude, but I think that happened the minute you started hanging out with a bunch of thirteen-year-olds for fun.”

“You do too!”

“Yeah, but one of them’s my brother. Your only connection is that Mike is your ex’s brother. Which is just embarrassing.”

“Maybe. But _they_ think I’m cool.”

Jonathan’s not sure he’s felt this relaxed talking to somebody in years. He smiles. “Sure, Steve, sure.”

He doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on. After all, _he_ thinks Steve is pretty cool, too.

**Author's Note:**

> that was the lamest possible way to end this but i thought it was cute. sorry. 
> 
> here's my [tumblr](http://hamletfucks.tumblr.com). come chat to me i'm lonely


End file.
